this is why.

​As with many people, I suspect, I first became aware of horse racing through watching the Grand National on a black and white television set. Back then, as a nine or ten-year-old, I knew nothing of the vagaries and nuances of the sport and on a black and white t.v. my instant fascination could have little to do with ‘the all-the-fun-of-the-fair’ colour of the silks or jerseys or any of the back-stories of the horses and jockeys taking part. To my youthful eyes it was keystone cops meets the courage of jockey and horse, the lottery of chance, fate and the wrath of the gods all mixed and jangled together. It was love at first sight and for the best part of sixty-years it was a love that never wavered.
As with long-lasting marriages my love for the Grand National was confronted by grim realities, the race lost to the I.R.A. hurt me to the quick, the void National made me angry and miserable with those with the responsibility to protect the great race, though the greatest threat to this love-affair was when the tinkering began after the 2012 National won by Neptune Collonge. Two horses died in that race, neither directly due to the fences, with the bravery of the first two home neglected in favour of hand-wringing and a commitment to ever-decreasing circles.
I would have more respect for Aintree if they had put an end to the Grand National, to have had the final Grand National, and then announced the replacement race, the race I will always refer to as the Aintree National. The race next Saturday is not the Grand National, albeit they continue to register it thus. The distance is shorter, the fences lower, Bechers Brook is but a name on a plan of the course, and there are fewer runners and it is no longer the race of the people. In time it will go the way of the Epsom Derby and become of no relevance outside of the sport. It is nothing more than a cash-cow now, a fund that keeps Jockey Club Estates afloat.

I doubt if many people remember Gordon Cramp. The name was familiar to me as after he retired as a jockey, he trained at Failand, just outside of Bristol, my home city. I did not know him as a jockey.
It would not happen now, quite rightly, but when Cramp was offered the ride on Melilla in the 1962 Grand National, he had not ridden over fences all season and to get his eye in he begged a ride in a selling chase at Fontwell on the Monday of the week of the Grand National.
The horse was a 100/1 no-hoper, yet it was a milestone in the career of Cramp. Few would have expected Melilla to go beyond the first, yet the mare jumped clear as far as Bechers second-time round where she tired and Cramp quickly pulled her up.
The 1962 race was won by the 12-year-old Kilmore, ridden by Fred Winter. The 2nd and 3rd were also 12-year-olds, the luckless Wyndburgh was second for the third-time and former winner Mr.What was third, something which you would get long-odds of ever happening again, three 12-year-olds fighting out the finish of an Aintree National.
It would be nice to recall that Cramp’s career took off after his foray around Aintree but that would be fiction not fact. He finished his career with only 36-winners, though he went on to train a dozen-winners and work for some of the leading trainers. He also became a talented artist, painting water colours.

Keith Barnfield was more a painter and decorator than he was a jockey when he was offered the ride on Ormonde Tudor in the 1976 Grand National. He was 36 and his ride had only won a solitary selling chase at Tees-side Park (Stockton). 
Barnfield’s best season for winners was 1967/68 with 10 and the richest race he ever won was the £1,000 Colonel Thompson Memorial Hurdle at Market Rasen. His first ever winner was Scarron in a selling hurdle at Cheltenham in 1965.
His only ride in the Grand National ended at the first fence, though he was always keen to correct the form-book as Ormonde Tudor did not so much but slip on the long-wet grass. The horse was notable for having as many trainers during his time as a racehorse as he had years on the clock, moving stables on a yearly basis. It was only when he came under the care of Rosemary Lomax that he began to shine, winning three handicap chases for her. He also won three-times when he moved on to Tommy Fairhurst.
The 1976 Grand National, of course, was won by Rag Trade, delaying Red Rum’s immortality by 12-months, winning by 2-lengths whilst in receipt of 12 Ibs.

In Chris Pitts ‘Go Down To The Beaten’ there are 109 examples of people who rode without success in the Grand National. The 110th  is A.P. McCoy’s big moment in 2010. There will never be another A.P. McCoy and there will never again be a Grand National.